


Forever in Love

by u2incidentof1976



Category: U2
Genre: Adam Clayton - Freeform, Anal Sex, Baby u2, Blow Job, Hand Job, Larry Mullen Jr - Freeform, M/M, Oral Sex, SOE, SoI - Freeform, Songs of experience, The Edge - Freeform, U2 - Freeform, are you experienced?, bono - Freeform, forever in love, songs of innocence, the Joshua tree
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-01 18:57:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15149699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/u2incidentof1976/pseuds/u2incidentof1976
Summary: “Love is the least complex thing, but the most complicated.”Shifting from different points of view and covering several U2 eras, this work tells the story and highlights the most important moments in Adam and Larry’s history. From the first kiss to sliding into fourth base, everything before and after and all the “I love you”s and rough patches in between.*MY OWN PERSONAL DISCLAIMER*This is bound to, at some parts, go from over-the-top cute and fluffy to super-duper steamy in a matter of phrases. I don’t apologize in advance. Fair warning: don’t get too comfortable.





	1. Love is All We Have Left

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first U2 fanfic woooooo!!!! 
> 
> Well, I disclosed a lot in the summary. This chapter is kinda short (it looked way longer when I was writing it on my phone haha) but I’m hoping to make future chapters longer, especially the baby U2 chapters and their first kiss and so on...oops, I’ve already said too much. 
> 
> I was heavily inspired by this picture for this chapter https://www.pinterest.com/pin/750271619147769701/  
> Aren’t they just the cutest?! 
> 
> And as for the chapter title...not all of them will be song titles, it just worked for this one. 
> 
> I think I’m done talking now. I hope you enjoy this, I’m working really hard on it and it’s so much fun to write! Don’t expect like a steady updating schedule, because I am a busy person and get distracted, but I’ll try to update in a realistic time frame:)
> 
> This chapter is from Larry's POV

 

          There’s this one time in our history I seem to remember getting the overwhelming and unfleeting desire to kiss you during a show. Of course this was not achievable, as I was stuck behind the drum kit as usual, but you were free to roam the stage as you pleased. Bono, who was also free to run and jump about (maybe a little _too_ free), at one point made a mad dash across the stage and aimed right for your mouth, meeting the target with his own. I had to look away in that moment, even though I tended to watch you from behind throughout the majority of our shows, but even just a quick peck between the two of you--between you and _anybody_ \--it pained me. I couldn’t imagine that would be the last time you and Bono shared a kiss, or you and The Edge, although with Edge it was always much more subtle and much less sensual. And I was right. Since then, you and Bono have had innumerable moments together, on and off stage--kisses, hugs that last just a little too long, staring intensely into each other’s eyes, and of course the infamous ass slap that would be easy to miss if one wasn’t obsessively watching the two of you as I always am.

          I wouldn’t call myself the jealous type, just--protective. As I have every right to be because you’re mine. Bono and Edge have each other, they have no good reason to be kissing or hugging you. Your ass is _mine_ to touch when we’re alone together backstage. If I could, I can most certainly assure you I would be running across that stage every night to meet your lips with my own. And at the end of every show when we bow to an adoring crowd, I always make sure to stand beside you, to feel your arm slip around my shoulder. You’re so gentle with me.

          Oh yes, but the reason I brought up wanting to kiss you during a show in the first place (I do believe that one particular time was when we were touring The Joshua Tree) is because it happened again this night. I must admit, the best view from behind the drum kit is the one of your ass in those tight pants when you bend slightly forward. I’m sure you don’t intend to do it (or do you?) but it happens when you are truly “in the zone” as Bono would probably put it. On occasion, you turn to face me and, even though I know you’re not looking at me because you’re focusing on your craft (as I probably should be also), it’s nice to have a face to look at, especially yours. Not that your ass isn’t a lovely thing to look at.

          Bono doesn’t kiss you this night (thank God) and I think it’s during “I Will Follow” that my urge to kiss you arises. I think that song brings out something in all four of us (Edge especially) and makes us feel young again. It reminds me of not only the beginning of U2--or The Larry Mullen Band, as I still call us in my head sometimes--but the beginning of _us_. Long hours of us hugging, loosely holding fingers, playing with each other’s hair, endlessly flirting with each other and making each other laugh after Bono and Edge had left band practice to go do God knows what. We would hang around in the band room at school for a while, our “official” practice location so no one could make noise complaints, and I enjoyed watching you fiddle around on your bass, everything else in the room absolutely silent. Sometimes we would make the long journey down to the beach, walking deliberately slow, and I would listen to you ramble on about random shit that I couldn’t care less about, but coming from your mouth, it was like an incantation and I hung on your every word, even though I didn’t always fully understand it. My father didn’t mind you hanging around too much either.

          But of course, “I Will Follow” reminds me of our youth, and in our youth we kissed, much more than we do nowadays. It’s gotten harder over the years to keep this up.

          The set ends and I hurry to secure my place next to you for our bows. Your arm surrounds me naturally with a soft, yet reassuring squeeze and I look up at you proudly as you stare out into the crowd, beaming. Proud to call you my band mate. Proud to call you my best friend. Proud to call you my secret lover. Being so close to you now with my lust for your sweet lips not waning is dangerous. And the encore!

          Four songs later (which really felt like quite an eternity) now we’re backstage. Bono and Edge snuck off together as soon as we got off stage and knowing them, one of them is probably blowing the other, who’s analyzing every last detail of tonight’s show. 

          “Now where do you suppose they’re off to?” you ask as we walk down the corridor to the dressing room.

          “Hell if I know,” I reply. “Bloody bastards. Those two are _so_ complex. I prefer to keep things simple, like us.”

          We arrive to the dressing room and, closing the door behind us, you tilt my chin up with your index finger and kiss me. The first time since the tour kicked off, almost three weeks ago now. Your eyes are an icy blue when our lips part, but as you smile, the skin around your eyes crinkles in the most warm and adorable way. “I missed you,” I mutter and suddenly I start to remember what it was like having you every night (because at one point, I did) but it can’t be like that now, can it? “In a way, I still miss you.” It’s a risky thing for me to say, but then I remember that you’re Adam—not Bono who would blow that statement _way_ out of proportion, and not Edge who would sit me down and want to have a full on discussion about us—and you just pull me close to your chest and peck me on the forehead. I feel well cared for with you.

          “I know, love. I still miss you too.” You hold me like that for a while, breathing in whatever scent lingers on my forehead, and when you pull away you remark, “And I must say, love, the glasses are an absolute turn on. Every night it gets harder and harder…”

          “Adam,” I gasp quietly and I somehow manage to wrap my entire existence around you. You hold onto me too like I’m the only thing you have left. I kiss under your earlobe, that secret spot I discovered drives you mad long ago. I feel your warm breath on my neck and the gentle kisses you are pressing there, driving me to the brink of insanity. _Every night it gets harder and harder._

          Harder to remember, harder to forget.

          Harder to want you, harder to resist you.

          Harder to love you, harder to stop myself from loving you.

          “We _are_ complex,” I come to the realization out loud. In fact, maybe even more complex than Bono and Edge.

          “Larry, my love,” you say in a way that results in me pulling away to look at you. Your beautiful face, wrinkled and aged, but the same smile I fell in love with long ago. “I’m forever in love with you, Larry. Not complex. I’m forever yours as long as you want me. Not complex. We’re not complex whatsoever, we’re just…” You struggle to find the right word and in that time I nudge another kiss to your lips and a couple to your chin as well.

          “Complicated?” I suggest and a smile pulls at the corners of your mouth.

          “Now there’s a more accurate word. Complicated. There’s only one thing to us and that’s _love_. I love you, Larry. Everything from your voice to your hands to your bare chest to those darling glasses.” I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I stare up at you, your icy blue eyes. “But we’re high maintenance, Larry. It takes a lot out of you and a lot out of me to make this work. It’s _complicated_. Love is the least complex thing, but the most complicated.” I think about that for a minute. After all that we’ve been through over the years, we fought hard to get to this point and even now we’re still fighting. Not with each other, but with everyone and every _thing_ else.

          “And it’s bigger than anything in its way,” I joke, but I’m not really joking. You cock your head at me before doubling over, laughing and I join in too. You hold me tight again, our bodies seemingly becoming one, and you’re squeezing my back a little too hard, it feels like it’s on fire. You let go and looking me straight in the eye add, “And it’s all we have left.” I chuckle at your goofy smile, as you’re clearly proud of yourself for that, and then you lure me to your lips for a good twenty minutes, until we hear a knock on the door.

          I lay in my hotel bed this night (alone, I might add) and think. _Love is all we have left_. It’s what holds us together, what brought us together, and what will separate us. It’s what gets me up in the mornings, another day I get to love you and another day I get to _be_ loved by you. It’s the only thing I can count on day to day. I can’t trust that I will be able to play drums tomorrow, or that our show will go smoothly tomorrow, or that Edge won’t fall off the stage again tomorrow. How can one even trust that the sun will rise in the morning? But I’ve built my trust in you, _you’ve_ built my trust in you. Our love for each other is a daily given. I can say surely that even if the sun didn’t rise tomorrow morning, you would come running to find me in the dark and kiss me, our love creating the energy of a thousand suns.

          Love is all we have left.

          You are all I have left.


	2. Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes it back to when the boys first started the band, when they were in high school.
> 
> Larry and Adam's first moment together is a bit tense. 
> 
> Larry is starting to have some sexual thoughts about Adam...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYO, I'M NOT DEAD. 
> 
> Phew, sorry for not updating in like a gazillion years, I've been having an EXTREMELY busy summer. But anywho, here's chapter 2! Which I'm really excited about and proud of:) 
> 
> This chapter is from Larry's POV. 
> 
> Also for those of you die-hard U2 fans, you can follow my U2 fan account on Instagram: @u2incidentof1976

          In its prime, The Larry Mullen Band practiced every Monday through Thursday after school in the band room and most Saturdays at my humble home. We had a lot of work to do. We were not musicians; we were [horny] teenage boys (some of us more so than others), barely capable of keeping our dirty minds off of women’s breasts--and for me, your ass, but I will elaborate later--long enough to play a single note. Bono would frequently stop mid-song with some crazy idea on how to make the song “better” (turn up the bass, now turn down the bass, how about no bass? How about no drums? Just the guitar, I want to sound vulnerable) and end up going on a tangent for half-an-hour about how he got chills whenever Ali touched him or whatever, and that’s how he wanted people to feel when they heard him sing. The only thing I felt when I heard him sing was relief that we were finally getting somewhere.

          Needless to say, we needed to get our shit together.

          Once we were trying to get through a song by The Clash and things weren’t looking too good for The Larry Mullen Band. When you’re stuck behind the drum kit, you have the tendency, the habit, the _urge_ even, to look at your bandmates asses. This isn’t just coming from me, ask any drummer ever. A few days before this particular incident, I had come to the conclusion that there was some attraction between me and you, on my part. As a boy in high school where every other boy my age had a girlfriend, this was unnatural. I had kissed girls a lot in grade school. But in secondary school, and especially once I met you, my interest in women had dwindled off. Was it just a sexual desire to get into your trousers or did I actually find myself thinking about calling you baby and you kissing my forehead as we walked to class? I didn’t even know myself. Regardless, now I was forced to watch your ass shaking and what not while simultaneously focusing on my drumming efforts. I had to be careful; if I got too distracted, I would get off beat and _everyone_ would notice. To remain focused, that was easier said than done.

          “Again, again, lads. This could be going so much better,” Bono sighed, after cutting us off for the 100th time and now pacing the room, frustrated.

          “Perhaps we should take a break,” The Edge suggested, setting down his guitar. “Larry looks like he’s dying to get the bloody hell outta here.” He shot me a teasing glance, but he wasn’t wrong.

          “I’m going to go take a piss,” I said, a little angrily, stumbling out from behind the drums. I could feel my face getting flushed as everyone watched me exit the band room and into the corridor.

          I shoved my hands in my pants pockets as I hurried off to the toilets. My cheeks were burning from sheer embarrassment. Being the drummer and all, I can usually go unnoticed throughout most band practices. I try not to drag too much attention to myself in life, period. I was upset at Edge for calling me out like so, upset at Bono for thinking he was running the show, and upset at you for...well, I don’t know why I was exactly upset at you. You hadn’t done anything. Maybe I was just upset with you for distracting me, although that wasn’t entirely your fault. It’s not your fault that you’re so fascinating to me.

          I didn’t _actually_ have to piss, so I just hung around in the toilets for a little while, staring at myself in the mirror above the sink. My hair had gotten very long recently, completely covering my eyebrows and starting to move in on my eyes. I wasn’t sure if I liked it or not. I rubbed my hands over my face, as if I could erase my features so that when I looked back into the mirror, I was a different boy. A more handsome person. Everything from my pouty lips to my squinting eyes to my big-ass nose...God, I was so fucking ugly. I looked at myself in the mirror again. I was still the same. Very disappointing.

          The door to the toilets swang open, causing me to jump. I turned on the sink, pretending to wash my hands, when you stepped in. You looked around questioningly for a brief moment before spotting me and striding over. You leaned up against the opposing sink so that you were facing me. I didn’t acknowledge your presence and tried to ignore the fact that you were staring intensely at me, making me go bright red. I kept my head down, but I couldn’t stand there washing my hands forever. “Larry?” you said, your deep voice booming and echoing off the walls in the tense silence. I dared not move a muscle. Your arms were folded across your chest and out of my peripheral vision, I could see you cock your head to one side. “Larry,” you repeated, this time more firmly and when I didn’t respond, you turned off the water yourself, stepping closer to me. I looked up at your face, slowly, nervously, but your cheeky grin was all that greeted me.

          “Yes?” I answered quietly. We stared at each other unintentionally for a short, awkward moment before you spoke.

          “Somebody’s in a bit of a mood, hm?” you chuckled. This just set me off.

          “Am _not_ in a mood,” I defended myself, brushing past you to get a towel.

          “You’ve been a bit short today with Bono and Edge and now myself,” you pressed. I could sense the smirk on your face without even having to look at you.

          “No I have _not_ ,” I muttered, tossing the towel in the waste bin. I was all set to get out of there, head back to the band room to collect my books and things and head home, but as I reached for the door handle, I felt a hand grab my shoulder harshly. Your hand. You stood in front of me, ice blue eyes staring deeply into my soul. I swallowed hard. I felt like I was about to get murdered. “Can I _help you_?” I demanded, anxious to get out of there. I watched you as your expression softened into almost a look of pity. You smiled slightly.

          “No, Larry. Just...have a nice day. See you tomorrow.” You patted me awkwardly on the shoulder before exiting the toilets and leaving me standing there alone, utterly confused.

          That night, I lied in bed and thought. You looked like you were most definitely going to say something profound when we were standing in the toilets together earlier, yet didn’t. I could only imagine the things you were going to say. _Larry, you are so not ugly. In fact, you are quite incredibly handsome. Stop putting yourself down, Larry. I love your long hair, it suits you quite well. Don’t cut your hair, Larry. I want to be able to run my fingers through it and play with it when we’re alone. How I could stare into your beautiful, bright blue eyes forever! They’re the color of the ocean, Larry, as big and as clear as the ocean. I want to be able to kiss your adorable nose, Larry, and your cheeks and your forehead and all over your pretty face. But most of all, I am dying to kiss your sweet, pouty lips. I want to take you to a beach somewhere and look into your ocean eyes, to hold your hand and then press a soft, sweet kiss to your palm. And then, when you are least expecting it, I want to tilt your chin upwards with my index finger, get lost in your ocean eyes, and lean in to kiss your precious pink lips. Would you let me do that, Larry? Would you let me partake in kissing you? I’ve been longing to do so for such a long time now. My body often aches for you, Larry. How I wish to hold you in my arms when I’m lying in bed at night. To have my body mold around the shape of yours. I would hold you so tight and never let you go. I would press kisses to the back of your head, to your cheeks, and to the back of your neck. Our fingers would be intertwined and I would rub my thumb over the hills and valleys of your knuckles. I would kiss your ears, down to your neck, where I would suck softly on your sweet skin, leaving my mark, and then put my lips to your throat, your Adam’s apple. Your breathing would hitch as I would trail kisses to your shoulders and in the crook of your neck. You would grasp firmly onto my shoulders and whisper my name seductively into my ear…._

_Seductively into my ear…_

I woke up with a start. I realized that I had been lucid dreaming and as a result, had conjured up my throbbing erection. I panicked. I was hard for you, though I didn’t really want to be, mainly because you weren’t there to give me what I wanted. I shivered. I couldn’t help it. The thought of you inside of me, or me inside of you, it ran like electricity throughout my entire body.

          I jumped when the phone rang suddenly. It was all the way in the downstairs hall, in the dark, though I was pretty sure my father had already gone to bed. Dare I make the treacherous trip down there to answer it, with my aching manhood between my legs? It had already started to go down a bit.

          I crept quietly downstairs, blinded by the blackness of night. The phone continued to ring out and I followed the sound to find it on the wall. I picked up the receiver.

          “Hello?” I whispered hoarsely, as to not wake up my sleeping father and sister. My answer was followed by a brief moment of an eerie hum from the other end. “Hello?” I repeated.

          “Larry?” I would recognize your voice anytime, day or night. “Larry, are you there?”

          “Yes, hello, Adam. I’m here,” I murmured into the receiver.

          There was an awkward pause before you said, “Well you don’t have to whisper, Larry. It’s not like we’re talking about some top secret information,” a bit louder this time. I sighed.

          “Yes, I know, it’s just that my father and sister have already turned in for the night and I don’t want to wake them. I’m supposed to be in bed myself right now, you know,” I replied. I felt like such a rebellious teenager, up past my bedtime, talking on the phone with the boy whom I fancied.

          “Oh, so I understand. Listen, Larry, I’m terribly sorry about earlier today. You know, in the toilets and all. I didn’t mean to scare you or antagonize you or anything of that sort. I’m sorry.” I sunk to the floor in the hallway and leaned my back against the wall, tucking my knees up to my chest.

          “Well I should be the one being sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just, I try to stay out of the limelight as much as I can and Edge called me out today, which made me so uncomfortable. And then Bono thinks he fucking knows everything, which I can assure you, he does not. I swear, sometimes being in a band with those two seems impossible.” I leaned my head against the wall and listened to the eerie hum from your end of the line again. I could hear you shuffling around.

          “Well, apology accepted, Larry. You’re right, Bono and The Edge can sometimes be a pain in the ass. Mostly Bono.” I laughed at this. “I’m serious! Remember that one time he decided to cut the bass out of the song completely? I was left standing there like an idiot! What am I supposed to do then? I’m a _bass player._ ” I tried to stifle my laughs so I wouldn’t wake anybody up. This was hard to do however, especially when you started to mimic Bono’s voice, saying things that he would most certainly say.

          “You’re terribly funny, Adam,” I mumbled into the phone, smiling from ear to ear. I could sense your warm smile too on the other end, but you didn’t say anything in response. The eerie hum on your line was beginning to lull me to sleep. I felt my eyelids drooping and my grip on the telephone loosening. I felt my mind drifting off to a place where you were holding me in your arms, whispering sweet nothings in my ear. Your voice brought me back to reality.

          “Oh, so listen, Larry. The reason I called you tonight, other than to apologize, was to ask if perhaps tomorrow after band practice, you’d like to accompany me on a walk down to the beach? I know it’s far, but my parents have gone out of town for a little while and I’ll have nothing to occupy myself with otherwise.” I felt my heart thumping faster and harder in my chest. I sat up straight, fully awake and alert now.

          “Oh, uh...sure! Yeah yeah, that sounds lovely. I’m sure my father wouldn’t mind it,” I said, trying not to sound _too_ excited. “I would love that.”

          “Great! You always make things more interesting, Larry,” you said. I couldn’t quite tell if you were being snarky or genuine, but little did I want to know. “I best be going now, Larry. You should too, get on to bed. The sleepiness in your voice is really rather adorable. But I don’t want you dozing off in your studies tomorrow because of me. Goodnight! Sweet dreams!” With that, you hung up and the eerie hum turned into an obnoxious buzz. I hung up the receiver then and trekked back upstairs into my bedroom.

          Crawling under the covers, your words repeated themselves over and over again in my head. _The sleepiness in your voice is really rather adorable._ I smiled. I imagined you tucking me securely into bed and pecking a gentle goodnight kiss on my forehead. Or even better, sliding into the bed next to me, even though there was no room for more than one person. You would pull me close to your chest and hold me there, breathing down my neck, your lips at the hollow under my ear. I sighed and closed my eyes, imagining you. Your icy blue eyes, your crazy blonde hair, your slim figure hovering above me, and best of all your smile.

          A smile that perhaps, one day, I could fall in love with.


End file.
